


In Your Eyes, I See My Soul

by JusticeIsBittersweet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeIsBittersweet/pseuds/JusticeIsBittersweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He longs to see those eyes glimmer with tears, glint with anger, shine with joy, light up in playfulness. When that head turns in his direction, those lips contorts into a grimace, tugging at Draco's heart. He longs to kiss those lips, just so they won't grimace any longer when looking at him. He wants to kiss those lips to make him smile again.</p>
<p>It has been a while since Harry smiled; properly smiled. Yes, Draco takes note of these things. But this isn't love, no.</p>
<p>It's not obsession, either.</p>
<p>It's merely an observation. Not his fault Potter is so damn hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Eyes, I See My Soul

Draco stares at the back of Harry's head.

It is a nice head. On that head, there is a mess of raven-black hair that he longs to run his hands through, just so he can feel how soft it is against his fingers. When that head turns, there is a glimpse of emerald eyes that he longs to stare into, to see what emotions they can portray. He longs to see those eyes glimmer with tears, glint with anger, shine with joy, light up in playfulness. When that head turns in his direction, those lips contorts into a grimace, tugging at Draco's heart. He longs to kiss those lips, just so they won't grimace any longer when looking at him. He wants to kiss those lips to make him smile again.It has been a while since Harry smiled; properly smiled. Yes, Draco takes note of these things. But this isn't love, no.It's not obsession, either.It's merely an observation. Not his fault Potter is so damn hot.It is that moment when Draco decides he hates Harry Potter, truly hates him, hates him for turning down his friendship on day one of Hogwarts, hates him for the snide comments, hates him for getting him into trouble, hates him for stealing all the glory. He hates him for not managing to kill the Dark Lord when he had the chance, for if he had then Draco wouldn't be given such a burden. He hates him for all the pain he has caused.

He hates him the most for being so attractive.

But then, he likes him. Draco likes him for being so courageous, likes him for standing by his friends, likes him especially so for being so attractive. Draco has liked him since day one. He hadn't meant to say those things about Weasley, it was simply jealousy, jealousy that he had managed to steal someone so famous and valuable and cute...it was a childhood crush, but even still, it never went away. He tries to win Potter over. All those times, it has failed. All those times he has insulted Granger and Weasley, all those times he has challenged Potter by insulting his friends, he was only doing it to get a reaction out of the bastard. He gets so hot when he's mad.

Draco knows he's s cruel, sadistic guy. He knows that, even if he does gather up enough courage to confess, Harry will never accept him. Draco is a Malfoy, born and bred, meaning everything that comes from his mouth is prejudiced and self-righteous. Most of the things he says are simply to save face anyway, though sometimes, something slips out without him meaning to and then it's, 'oh well, there goes any hope of a relationship'.

It doesn't stop Draco trying.

Which is why he's decided to make the first move.

He loves the little rivalry they have, for it draws them closer with a bond no one else could have, but then he hates it because there is a rift between them they can never cross. That's why he has to try and shape their rivalry into something else, something less maleficent but still with the same dangerous aura about it that excites him so much.

After class, Draco follows Potter.

Potter leaves his friends to go to the owlry. Perfect timing. Enough for Draco to stalk off after him, unnoticed, his footsteps barely muffled as he treads carefully through the halls. He catches the boy walking past one of the stone gargoyles, ignored the shaking in his hands and seizes the opportunity. He grabs Potter by the waist, his chest to the other boy's back, pushing him behind the statue, away from prying eyes. They struggle there in the shadows. Potter is bucking, writhing. Draco attempts to soothe him, carding one hand through his hair, but it only comes across as a mocking gesture. This is the last thing he needs. He wants Potter to come to him willingly, not to push him away even further.  
He lets his grip slacken.

Potter turns in his arms, breaking his grip, and when he does- _oh_ _, what a wondrous sight to_   _behold_ -his eyes are sparkling with anger and hatred, his mouth contorting in fury as he yells, and Draco simply smirks, feeling slightly hot under the collar as he takes in the embarrassed dusting of pink on the boy's cheeks, trying not to think of the way his body had felt in his hands, and it takes him every ounce of his being to not just take him there and then, regardless of consent.

 

_No Draco. Bad Draco._   


Instead, he smirks. He ducks down slightly, placing a very gentle kiss against the other's lips ( _oh, how they feel underneath his own!)_  and leaves, throwing a casual retort over his shoulder.

He knows the seed has been planted. All he needs to do is wait, and let that seed grow before the flowers of realization blossom. He will come to Draco.

And Draco will be ready.

 

* * *

Within a few weeks, his assumptions prove true. Potter corners him in the library, waiting until they are solely alone before backing him against the table, kissing with fervor. Draco does his best to keep up, after his initial shock. That smirk rises to his lips again. Potter wipes it off with an expert move of his tongue and a thrust of his hips, and Draco can barely keep his groans under the surface. One or two manage to slip through his defenses, though luckily no one seems to hear for they are left alone for the entire time they spend there.

It only builds from there. For the following months, Draco spends many nights sneaking out of the dorm to the Room of Requirement, leaving with hair more disheveled and lips more swollen than when he had first walked in. He gets hardly any sleep, between his nightly sessions with Potter and his experiments with the Vanishing Cabinet, but it's worth it.

After all, he's getting his own way. Finally.

They are around halfway into their sixth year when Draco suddenly realizes the change in Potter. He is smart enough to know that he and Potter weren't exclusive, but at the same time, he notices that he no longer sends pining looks to Ginny when he sees her kissing Dean, and whenever they meet up, the boy isn't as hostile as he had previously been. Sometimes it feels as though they are friends...though they can't be. He is a Griffindor, Draco a Slytherin. It is not meant to be. No friendship lasts between rivaling houses and Draco is afraid that if he labels their relationship then it will reduce the meaning of it. It will become something cheap and controversial. Draco has always prided himself as being anything other than controversial; after all, what Slytherin fucks a Gryffindor, or the other way round for that matter?

Things start going downhill just after Christmas. More pressure from the Dark Lord. More pressure from his exams. More pressure from his father...

And then Harry.

( _When has he stopped calling him Potter?)_  


To make matters worse, Pansy now had her suspicions since he no longer came to her to relieve his boredom and is now spending her time ( _wasting her time_ ) trying to figure out who he is seeing. The idea of having a partner almost makes him scoff when he realizes that's what he had wanted in the first place, to find a place in Harry's heart the way Harry has a made a home in his. Strangely though, he is happy with their little arrangement. No strings attached. No loose ends. To the casual observer, people will see two rivals constantly sniping at the other, never knowing what goes on behind closed doors. Sometimes, through the jibes thrown at each other, Draco would throw in a casual wink, barely noticeable, but clear enough for Harry to see. That's how public their relationship is.

It just...works.

 

* * *

When Draco witnesses Dumbledore's murder, the guilt of responsibility lies on his shoulders. He almost buckles under the weight of it, though Severus makes sure to keep him upright, a firm hand fixed around his arm. This is what his professor has aimed for. He is almost grateful that the man has taken some of the pain away, though he had still cornered the old man with the intention to kill. He's disgusting. He's vile. He's...a monster. He...

He sees movement beneath him. He peers closer, almost recoiling when a set of familiar eyes meets his own through the gaps. He's always marveled at how expressive Harry's eyes can be, though at times like this he wishes Potter would be a closed book so that the tears of betrayal wouldn't send shards of guilt lodging into his heart. Its like kicking a puppy. It pains him to hold the eye contact so he looks away.

The last time he sees him, Draco is being hauled away from Hogwarts, a raging teenager hot on their heels. Severus slows to deal with him. Draco hopes his desperation doesn't show on his face; to show sympathy for the Dark Lord's enemy in the presence of his allies is like signing your own death warrant.

There is a scream of anger behind, the sound of clashing spells. Draco attempts one last look, taking in the sight of his...his...friend, sprawled out on the floor, yet still struggling to stand despite the many times he's been knocked down. A flash of pride shoots through him.

To be replaced with dread as he's apparated away.

 

* * *

The following year is the worst year of his pitiful existance.

He spends the majority of his time cowering in fear, much like Wormtail, to his chagrin. Finally he understands how the man feels, or at least partially; how can any man willingly serve under a monster like Voldemort? A flash of disgust shoots through him every time he sees the rat get tossed around, pushing away the guilt with the knowledge that the fool only brought this on himself. Draco was forced into the Death Eater's ranks. He would never have agreed to his humiliation at the hands of this barbarian if his life wasn't endangered. That is the only reason he hasn't left to find Harry. That is the only reason he was up on that Astronomy Tower, the night of Dumbledore's death.

No, not death.  _Murder_.

He often wonders how Harry's doing. What he's doing. What he's been up to. He knows the boy mentioned something about horcruxes during their meetings but Draco had never thought to delve deeper. He gathers that Harry's involved with these horcruxes now, whatever they are.

He pines.

When the Granger girl is dragged into the Manor, followed by Weasley, his heart jumps in his throat when he looks to their last companion. He doesn't look much like Harry. His face is swollen. There are no glasses. Yet those eyes, brilliant green and unmistakably wet when they land on him...

It's Harry. He's here.

Draco tries not to let his panic show. He approaches his friend, kneels down, placing a gentle hand on his face as he tilts the boy's head side to side, trying to look as though he's thinking. Instead his eyes convey silent apologies, promises and finally relief when Harry slightly nods in acceptance. He could smile.

When Harry escapes, he puts up little resistance when he is disarmed, gives away his wand, trying to fight the happiness welling inside him as the boy's escape proves successful. His heart soars when, before Disapperating, Harry looks deep into his eyes, giving a slight nod before Dobby pulls him away. And then...the knife.

It comes hurtling past him, towards Harry, and his heart is stuttering, the slight smile fading from his face, the hope draining from him, and with a glitter the knife vanishes along with them and he feels like crying only  _they're all looking at_   _him_ -

 

_Breathe, Draco, breathe._   


It would have hit one of them, there was no doubt. Either Harry or Dobby. His heart sinks even lower as he realizes the inevitability of death.

This moment is the first time he realizes he's in love with Harry Potter.

* * *

There is a break in at Gringotts. Bella's vault, where Draco can only assume a horcrux was taken given the Dark Lord's anger.  
 _He survived._

* * *

His mother says you know who your soulmate is the moment you meet their eyes.

Draco now understands his fascination with Harry. Those eyes are simply unrivaled by anyone else's. The emotions they portray, the way they hold his attention for what seems like hours on end, the way they mesmerize him and how he  _can't stop thinking of them_  even in his sleep. His dreams are haunted by raven-haired boys with bright emerald eyes. Sometimes he even hears his sarcastic tone, but the comfort it brings soon fades away when he wakes up to the darkness of reality.

* * *

He returns to Hogwarts. Most often, he's silent and brooding. Even Pansy doesn't attempt to talk to him anymore. Most nights, he slips out the dorm and makes his way to the room of requirement, where Harry and he often stayed during their "sessions". Now he sits on the sofa before the fire in the very same room, curled into himself. How pathetic is he to be pining when most likely Harry is off somewhere with Granger and Weasley, probably snogging the face off the know-it-all while the ginger sits off to the side in jealousy? He probably doesn't spare a thought for Draco. He probably doesn't even know anything about soulmates given his muggle upbringing, or has been as equally oblivious as him for the past few years. It disgusts Draco that this is love, that this is the heartache it brings. He would rather never love at all.

* * *

Harry is in Hogwarts.

Harry is here.

Harry is...close.

Harry needs help.

The Slytherins are escorted to the dungeons, while he slips away, Crabbe and Goyle following suit like usual. He doesn't care. He lets them, can't find his voice to tell them to fuck off. His heart is in his throat. He's so close, so nearby...

Almost a year he has waited to talk again. Almost a year of thinking and pining and  _finally..._  


"I know where the Horcrux is," he says to himself in wonder.

The Room of Requirement welcomes him like it's done so many times before. He passes the Vanishing Cabinet, which sends shivers down his spine as he thinks of what happened the previous year, seeing Dumbledore falling, his body limp like a ragdoll, the way Bella laughed while he tried to keep his face emotionless...

He runs into him. Literally. They collide with each other, a tangle of limbs on the ground, their faces inches away from each other, so close Draco can feel every breath he lets out. He can smell his familiar scent, a scent that can't be described as anything other than  _Harry_ , and he breathes it in, that comforting smell that reminds him of nights before the fire, curled up in each other's arms, a memory of a love that wasn't love and  _God it feels so good to hold him close like this_...

"Draco."

It was a warning. He turns back to see Goyle, his face a mask of hatred.

He stands. "Goyle, listen to me..."

"You blood traitor!"

Draco is holding on to Harry for dear life. His mother's wand lies a few feet away and Goyle kicks it further, out of reach. He's defenceless. Goyle's wand is pointed to them and he knows the sod would do it, would cast the curse to stop his heart, he may be stupid but he wasn't past murder. Harry has his wand still in his pocket, his hand resting on it. He wouldn't be fast enough to draw it in time to defend them.

They were as good as dead.

Unless...

 _"_  
_Flipendo_  
_!"_  


Granger comes round the corner, casting at  _him,_  knocking him away from Harry who quickly whips his wand out. Goyle casts back a killing curse. Granger avoids it with ease, and Draco has to admire the grace in her movements and the confidence she hadn't had since he last saw her, writhing on the ground with the word  _mudblood_  being carved into her arm. She sends a glare towards him.

"That's my girlfriend you numpty!"

Weasley runs off, leaving Granger standing flushed but prideful. She turns back to them both, eyes raised.

"I suppose you want to tell me what's going on?" she asks Harry. He looks at the ground, where she turns to Draco instead. _It's now or never,_   _Malfoy_ _._ He grabs Harry in his arms, pulling him towards himself. Harry looks at him under those long, dark lashes, brilliant green eyes luring him in once again and it's like they are eleven all over again in Madame Malkin's, staring at each other in both awe and acknowledgment. He can see Harry's eyes widen in realization, though it's not surprising he took this long to find out, what with him being raised by muggles. They look at Granger who is watching them with a knowing expression. She can see what this is but...she wants to hear it for herself. And Malfoy opens his mouth-"GOYLE SET THE BLOODY PLACE ON FIRE!"They all whip their heads round to see Weasley running at them full pelt, grabbing Granger on his way to pull her with him. Draco turns and curses. Goyle only went and used Fiendyfire which he was a master at casting but a dunce at cancelling. With a protective growl, he grabs Harry, bodily throwing him forwards before racing after him, adrenaline fueling his actions and spurring him towards the door. He is about to follow after when a silver glint catches his eye.

 

" _DRACO!_ "

 

He ignores the cry, clambering up the pile of oddities to reach his prize. He can feel the scorching heat at his back, but with a grimace, he continues. His hand closes around the diadem. Triumph surges through him as he throws it towards the oncoming fiery assault.

 

With a slight jolt of surprise, he realises death isn't something he fears; he's embraced the possibility for three years now, ever since the Dark Lord came back to power. Maybe this was his purpose all along. To be the weak-willed enemy. To become the disposable asset the the Light side. He doesn't really mind, as long as Harry continues his mission, for there is no point in a war where there is no hero. He has taken his place facing the outcome of the actions that was supposed to be Harry's. He is here instead of Harry. His soulmate will live.

 

Harry will live his life without him.

 

Strong arms wrap around him just as he closes his eyes to face the onslaught. He's hoisted up onto the broom and, with a hysterical laugh, he folds Harry within a tight embrace as they race towards the door. Draco sees Weasley has Crabbe on another broom but Goyle...well, he has paid the price for his mistake. They all tumble out of the door, slamming it shut behind them just before they are all turned to ash...

 

And they are alive.

 

_Draco is alive._

He collapses to the floor, looking up to his dark-haired saviour. Those emerald eyes glisten with fondness.

 

* * *

 

"Harry, I won't let you."

 

The stupid boy looks at him, making his heart melt. While he insists this is his 'duty', Draco still says it is nothing more than foolish martyrism.

 

"I won't let anyone else die because of me."

 

Both of them are equally surprised at what he does next. The slap resounds throughout the room, slicing Draco's soul into two, and the expression of pure hurt across the other's face makes him contradict his prior movement and take him into his arms. There is silence for a moment or two, where Harry simply rests his head against the bony shoulder before completely collapsing his internal walls, baring his heart to the vulnerability of tears, letting his sobs cut through the thick tension and completely disolving Draco's willpower.

 

"I'll come back," the boy is saying. "I swear. I'll walk out that forest alive."

 

Now, when he watches the lifeless form in Hagrid's arms, those words are the ones to wreck him completely. Surprisingly, Granger is the one to catch him when he falls, his legs completely failing him. He can hear Ginny Weasley's screams at the front of the crowd, and he can see the unshed tears in Gran- _Hermione's_  eyes, can see they are all hurting but yet...most are let down for the loss of their saviour, the loss of the golden boy. People like themselves, they don't understand the true feeling of loss that Draco felt. He knows...knew the Chosen One as a  _person_ , not as a symbol. He looks at Hermione and sees the dejection in her eyes. Yet there is acceptance.

 

"This had to happen," she says. "He had to."

 

He tries to speak but then finds his tongue twisted, the words not coming. He looks up. Voldemort stands there, his ring of death eaters around him, and Draco avoids looking at the body on the ground, just  _lying there_. The man is preaching. He doesn't care. It isn't until Hermione nudges him that he realises he has been called up indirectly.

 

  
_I can't_ , his eyes try to say, but Hermione is not his soulmate. She cannot tell what his glances mean.

 

In the end, it is his mother who forces his movements. She meets his eye, beckoning seruptitiously with her hand.

 

_Come._

He moves of his own accord, walking straight ahead. He has to restrain himself from recoiling from Voldemort's touch as he embraces him.

 

_I will not look at him._

Instead, once with his mother, he turns to face the crowd, seeing only pity for him in their faces. He doesn't know what's worse; to see their unwanted sympathy when they only neglected him for the past two years or the body lying only a few feet away from him.

 

He escapes the battle gladly with his parents.

 

* * *

 

He breathes his name.

 

Draco can see him, striding towards him from a distance. He is currently seated with his parents at one of the tables, his mother stroking his hair gently but when he sees that familiar black mess of hair, he jumps up. The couple exchange knowing looks, moving away to give the two privacy.

 

He's beautiful.

 

That's the though that comes to his mind, second only to the fact he's  _alive_. Some part of him hopes, yet the other disagrees, knowing it's impossible to survive a killing curse. He reaches out a hand tentatively. He's well aware of the eyes at his back, people who disapprove of his very presence staring in bewilderment as he dares try to touch their  _saviour_. To most, people see Harry and himself as rivals.

 

Once upon a time, they had been.

 

Fingers meet flesh. _This isn't a hallucination._  


"H-how?" Draco stammers. "I saw your..."

 

Harry only laughs, practically jumping forwards to wind his arms around his...his lover. His boyfriend. His  _soulmate._  Draco has never believed in labeling anything, yet there was no denying base instinct and tradition. This was what they are; entwined by fate, destined to revolve around each other whether as lovers, friends or enemies. This is how it's always been. Throughout all these years, they've been addicted to each other like one is to a drug. His mind has been poisoned, weakened by love. He vaguely notices the tears streaming down his cheeks or the way that other students start crowding forward, gasping at the interaction. He doesn't care about anyone else other than the boy before him who eventually wears the smile he has longed for, the smile he would never have dreamed to be able to put on his face. It's...

 

Stunning.


End file.
